


From The Ashes

by elsewherewolf



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Burns, Chuck Lives AU, Fix-It, M/M, Recovery, Slow Build, survivor's guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsewherewolf/pseuds/elsewherewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck's evac pod surfaces, but Chuck is badly injured.  Herc stays with him through the recovery, helping to rebuild not just Chuck's life, but their entire relationship.  (It's the 6th where I am, sorry... out all day so this is going up now.)</p><p>Art by asreal01, who drew a fantastic piece which captured the mood by the end of this fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Ashes

**ONE: THE LONG WAIT**

 

Herc hears his son's voice, and all that he can do - all there is _left_ to do - is resign himself to the inevitable. He can't cry, he can't scream over the comms that Stacker is wrong, _wrong_ , that this won't work, it can't work, bring my boy home bring him back safe to me, bring him. It isn't how a soldier behaves, it isn't how _he_ behaves, and everyone knows it. All he can do is say goodbye under his breath and hope that wherever Chuck is, wherever whatever parts of him still remain end up, he hears it.

He's resigned, lets it all wash over him. The pride, the fear, the feeling of his heart shattering, every piece scattered to the wind, to the deep, to whatever hellish abyss it was he sent his boy to die in. It's hidden there, under his skin and behind his closing eyes. 

_I love you, I love you, I always loved you._

A minute, two minutes later, the tone of another dead Jaeger. Flatline. 

Tendo squeezes his shoulder and he barely feels it, barely feels. He moves in a daze, watching them bring Raleigh and Mako home, and he shakes Raleigh's hand with his good one and touches Mako's cheek because she's crying and he knows, knows that this war has torn a hundred thousand hearts to shreds, but it isn't the same. It just isn't. He should be holding his boy, tight enough to feel every breath, to feel him finally give up on struggling and just let Herc in. 

He hears something, sound through the furious pounding in his head, running feet and a voice, and Mako takes a step back from him, staring at him and Raleigh's turning away, slow like a dance and running, running, and there's a hand at Herc's back pushing him to follow.

"-third evac pod, Sir. Got out before the blast, but the pod malfunctioned, and... But it's showing some vital signs. Sir, it's your-"

He doesn't know how he puts one foot in front of the other, Raleigh pulls him the rest of the way into the chopper and straps him in and he's talking but Herc can't. All the pieces of his shattered self are flying back at him, and it's chaotic and sharp and he curls his hand into a fist and watches the ocean go by below them. Is it supposed to take this long? Raleigh's hand is on his good arm and he focuses on that point of connection because he's afraid if he doesn't he might just jump, certain that he could get to Chuck faster than this chopper, broken arm or not. 

When he finally catches sight of the pod, floating and smoldering, Raleigh has to hold him back. There's an emptiness where Herc's voice should be, so when he asks _how are there vital signs, are you sure there are, is he still alive, it's Chuck isn't it_ , nobody hears him.

The smell, when they finally get Chuck on board, is overpowering. It makes Herc's stomach turn, but he just takes a deep breath and swallows and pulls out of Raleigh's grip, fighting with the straps keeping him in his seat because that is his _son_ , and he should be over there. 

"There's nothing you can do," Raleigh's loud and right in his ear, catching at his hands to stop him. "Herc, let them take care of him."

 _It isn't their job, it's mine._ He strains, trying to see past the medics, to see anything at all of his precious son, but all he has is the taste of Chuck's burnt skin on his tongue, acrid. He wants to ask, but at the same time he's not sure he wants to hear any of the answers. So he waits, and he ignores the smell and the urgent conversations, just waits until the Prince of Wales comes into sight and the chopper descends.

Thirty seconds maybe, between landing and the emergency room doors, with Chuck's limp hand in his, and it isn't enough. There are too many people around him and Herc thinks this is worse than any battlefield, it's just people yelling and running and pushing and telling him he can't go any further.

"That's my son," are the first words he's spoken since, God, since when? "He needs me."

He has to wait, they say, they'll keep him updated but he has to wait outside, he can't go in. Parts of Chuck's drivesuit lie in the corridor, and Herc stares at them, starting to drown. Raleigh's caught up, and puts an arm around his waist, pulling him away from the closed doors and his son, his boy. "They have to let me in there, I'm his father."

"They can't, Herc. They won't. Come with me."

"What if-"

"Let them help him. Here."

Herc drops into the seat Raleigh's found, and leans back, looking at the ceiling. He feels sick. He wants to make a scene, he wants to break down doors and demand to be with Chuck, but he can't. There are standards of behaviour to maintain, especially in public, and he's Marshall now and Raleigh's watching every move he makes. A part of him knows as well, that ranting and railing will get him precisely nowhere.

"Stacker," he mutters. Herc knows he had everything to do with this. Chuck would never have left him willingly. Herc heard his last words; his son was ready to face death, he knew what was at stake. Stacker did something, Herc doesn't know what but he's certain Chuck wouldn't be here otherwise.

"Herc?"

"Nothing. Raleigh." He blinks, his eyes feel gritty with unshed tears and he looks at the kid properly. "Why are you here?"

"Running point, sir." Raleigh sits down beside him, the edge of his knee touching Herc's. "I'm here as your friend. I'll help keep the press away the best I can, and I'll be here if you need me. You'd do the same for me."

"I would. But shouldn't you be with Mako?"

"She'd tell me I should be here. Don't worry about it, okay? Stay there, I'm gonna see if I can find someone who knows what's going on."

He watches Raleigh go, and lets the silence back in again. He can remember the last time he brought Chuck to hospital, though it was years ago now. A different time, a different place, where Chuck didn't have too much to blame him for yet. A broken arm, Herc recalls - and just consider the irony of that - and Chuck's lip had been wobbling, his face bright the whole time he was being treated because he didn't want to cry in public, didn't want anyone to see. It wasn't until later, when he'd gotten Chuck home, that the boy buried his face in Herc's shirt and bawled his eyes out and Herc had just stroked his hair and told him it was okay, everything was okay. He might even have promised he'd never let anything bad happen to Chuck again, one of those empty promises parents make to their children when they kid themselves they're going to be that young forever.

When did he start crying? There's not even any sound, just tears trickling over his cheeks, dripping now and then onto his clothes, leaving little dark patches. He hears something, and a pair of feet appear in his vision.

"Mr Hansen? Are you okay?"

He looks up, and there's someone staring at him, and he wonders if this is the doctor Raleigh was fetching. "My son," he whispers, gulps and coughs and tries again. "What's happening? I need to see him. I have to tell him-"

"Hey, who the hell are you? Get away from him."

Raleigh, stepping in front of Herc. He looks away, back to the noticeboard on the wall beside him, posters about Kaiju Blue, a picture of someone with his leg in a cast, smiling, a lot of things Herc can't understand. 

"Hey." Raleigh's speaking to him again, and whoever else was there is gone now. Herc's stopped crying, but his face feels hot and wet and he thinks he should go and clean up but he can't move from this seat. He tries hard to focus on Raleigh, properly. "Someone's going to come see you soon, okay? They'll explain better than I can. Chuck's suffered some severe burns to a small area of his body, and there are a couple of fractured bones, but..." Raleigh trails off, and Herc nods. "It's all treatable, they say. The doc'll tell you everything. You need anything from me? Anything I can get you?"

_You just helped to seal the breach, Raleigh, haven't you done enough for one day?_

Herc forces a faint smile. "No. Who was that woman?"

"Reporter. I got rid of her. You want to go and wait somewhere more comfortable?"

"I want to be close to Chuck."

Raleigh nods, and sits back down beside him. Herc wants to tell the kid he doesn't need babysitting, something about this whole situation making him feel angry. He doesn't say anything though, just stares at the closed doors down the hall and waits.

+

It doesn't feel like he's seeing his son, the first time that Herc's allowed near him. Chuck isn't aware of him there, and his rough ride in the evac pod has left him battered and bruised. A small patch of his hair has been shaved away thanks to a cut that starts on his brow and curves up over his head, and nothing about him looks right. Herc isn't sure where to touch him, afraid of dislodging one of several important looking tubes, or hurting him even more.

"Chuck, it's me. Dad." He touches his knuckles lightly to Chuck's cheek in the end, strokes once, gentle. "I'm here, okay? Right here. Son..."

The words catch in his throat before he can say them, and he realises that he's crying all over again. Someone touches his back, and he nods, blinking furiously and impatient with himself more than anything else. "You need me, you call for me and I'll be right there, you hear me?"

"Sir? I'm sorry, but we need to move him now. If you go with Nurse Chen, she'll show you to where you can wait. Is there someone who can take you home? The surgery will take time."

"I'm staying here."

He touches Chuck's cheek one more time before following the Nurse out. Another uncomfortable seat, different posters saying the same things, and Raleigh, catching up to him again, a styrofoam cup in each hand.

"It's coffee. Not that great, but it's hot and I figured you could use a drink." Raleigh sits down beside him, offering one of the cups. Herc really isn't interested in coffee right now, but takes it anyway. 

"Thanks," he remembers to say.

"So, um. How did he look? Did they say if-"

"I should have told him," Herc mutters. "I love that boy, Raleigh. He's my only son, all I have left of my life before the war, and I love him. Would have died for him, you know that? He said he knew, but... I should have told him. Fuck." 

"You can tell him when he wakes up?" 

"What if he doesn't? Huh? What kind of a father sends their own son out to die?" He doesn't even know any more what he's feeling or why, or if it's what he's supposed to feel. All he knows is that he'd move heaven and earth right now to have his boy be okay.

"Herc, don't. Chuck knew exactly where we were going, and what he'd have to do when we got there." Raleigh sets his cup down and takes Herc's back, and he's glad because his hands are shaking and he can't seem to stop it. "He's in good hands, and you have to trust them to do this right."

"I know. I know." 

"Hey. Take a breath."

Herc's staring at his trembling hands, and when Raleigh says that to him, he realises how much the panic had been starting to rise. Why now, he doesn't know, but Raleigh clasps their hands together, keeps telling him to breathe. His arm fucking hurts and it pisses him off and leaves him feeling guilty at the same time. Should have been him out there with Chuck. Maybe none of this would have happened. _Maybe we'd both be buried at the bottom of the ocean._

"I don't even know what they're doing to him. They told me, but..."

"Ask them again. They'll understand, Herc. Hey listen, I'll stay with you as long as you need me here."

+

Something jolts him out of sleep - and he can't believe he fell asleep in the first place - and he looks up and around and Raleigh's still there, flipping through a magazine a couple of seats away.

"What time is it?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. "Chuck..."

"Almost seven," Raleigh replies, looking over at him. "Nurse said he should be out of surgery within the next hour. I guess that was ten minutes ago... didn't want to wake you."

"You should have." He sounds gruff to his own ears, clears his throat.

"You'd only be waiting, still. I thought I'd head to the cafeteria before it closes, you should eat something too. I'll bring you something back."

He doesn't want anything to eat, but he nods. "Raleigh, thanks. Thanks for being here."

Raleigh shrugs, putting the magazine aside to get up and stretch his legs. "What are friends for? I'll be back, okay? Maybe someone'll come by soon for you."

Herc doesn't have too long to wait before a nurse appears, a chart in her hand. "Mister Hansen?"

"Herc. Yes. Where's my son?"

"Follow me, please."

He gets up to follow, wondering if it's worth asking anything about Chuck's condition. Figures he'll know soon enough, so he keeps silent and keeps up. She pushes open a heavy door, standing aside to let him in.

He isn't prepared for what he sees. More tubes than there were earlier, more dressings, bright against Chuck's freckled skin. He's hooked up to God-knows-what and looks the most fragile Herc's seen him in a long fucking time.

"Can I stay with him?" he asks, and someone points to the chair beside the bed. He sits, reaching for Chuck's hand, lacing their fingers carefully together. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"Marshall Hansen. The surgery went well, but your son will need to stay with us for at least the next fourteen days while we monitor the skin's growth and his recovery. Controlling infection is paramount at this stage."

Herc looks up at the doctor who'd approached, and frowns. _Marshall?_ Right, of course. He is now, isn't he?

"Forgive me. I'm John Marlow, I performed the surgery."

Herc isn't sure what to say to that. _Thank you? Well done?_ "Okay."

"We're also recommending some psychological care - your son experienced a highly traumatic incident, and that requires attention just as much as the burns."

"I can take care of him," Herc says, firmly.

"I have no doubt of that sir, but we have our role to play as well. Let us do our job, and yours will become that much easier."

Herc bristles, feeling a little like he's being patronised. "Chuck won't talk to any head doctor, I can tell you that now."

"Perhaps not initially. Someone will be in to check the dressings later. There is a second bed set up for you, Marshall."

Herc has to force himself to stay calm, _he's just doing his job_. "Who's paying for all of this? The PPDC?"

"Your son is a hero, sir, and so are you. It's the least we could do." Marlow says, with a slight smile. "You should rest. I'll be back in the morning, but if you have any questions or concerns, I'm contactable."

Herc bites his tongue, just giving a nod instead. He doesn't trust his temper right now, and he really can't lose it in the middle of a hospital. He turns back to Chuck, and eventually the doctor seems to take the hint and leaves.

+

"Dad?"

Herc lifts his head from his arm, rubbing his eyes before curling his hand around Chuck's. He looks up to see Chuck looking back at him, his face pinched, exhausted.

"Chuck." The name leaves him in a rush of breath like he's been punched, and he straightens up, with no idea of what he should say.

"What happened? Stacker..."

"He sent you back, son. They did it, they closed the breach. How... Are you okay?"

Chuck's eyes are shining, wet, and he blinks quickly, turns his head and moans, quiet. 

"Chuck?"

"It fucking hurts. Please..." He swallows and Herc can remember the pain of a burn, and the nausea of waking up from anaesthesia, and he knows there's nothing he can do about either of those things.

"I'll get the nurse," Herc says, starting to get up. Chuck's grip on him tightens, and he looks down at their hands, something long forgotten giving a silent lurch.

"Don't," Chuck begs. "Just tell me what the damage is. What's wrong with me?"

"You're a mess," Herc tells him, honestly. "I think something shorted in the pod, burned your back up pretty bad. It's going to take a while. But I'm here, I'll be here."

"Dad." Chuck swallows again, his face pale and sweaty. "I'm sorry." 

The pain in those few words threatens to floor Herc, so he nods, and strokes his thumb over Chuck's knuckles. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. It was Stacker's choice to-"

"Not about that." A stiff, hoarse cry makes Herc look at him again, and Chuck's trying so hard not to just lose it, and Herc knows he's hurting. The nurses told him it would be a painful healing process, and apparently the medication only helps so much.

"You can tell me later, okay?"

Chuck grimaces, shakes his head. "No. It's about mum."

Herc's chest tightens, and he wants to wrench his hand free and take some steps back, but at the same time he can't move, can't leave Chuck lying there alone with nobody to hold onto. He can't do it. 

"I miss her too," Chuck says, the acknowledgement and the words too tight for them both. "I don't... I just, I understand. That's all."

"I wish things had been..." Herc clears his throat, starts to try again but Chuck shakes his head, closes his eyes.

"Things are what they are, dad."

+

Herc stays at the hospital most of the time, finding it easier to avoid the press when he's there. They ask the _dumbest_ fucking questions, _how does it feel to have your son back alive? Are you proud? Did you expect him to live?_ Hospital security are good at keeping them out, and there's been only two incidents of reporters getting through. One of them even made it inside Chuck's room, where Herc had to be restrained from punching the little scrote's lights out because how dare they?

Chuck had smirked at him a bit for that, and Herc spent a long time wondering what it meant.

He was doing okay; the treatment seemed to be working, though Herc knew that it was hell for Chuck. He'd had some of the processes explained to him, he'd wanted to stay one time while the nurses scrubbed at the burns but he'd been told no. He'd waited right outside the door instead, and heard Chuck, heard the pain in his voice for hours afterward and Herc tried to insist on stronger medication but Chuck had other ideas, and his own reasons for refusing it. Herc could guess at what they were, and even if he wasn't happy about it, he had to accept it. 

Mako sent gifts of fresh fruit and books from the local stores, and Herc could understand maybe a third of what was written but it didn't matter. More often than not, he made up his own stories and Chuck would look at him like he knew exactly what Herc was doing but was humouring him anyway by asking him to thank Mako for him, and saying that wow some of those Chinese authors had a distinctly Australian turn of phrase. 

He didn't get out of his room all too often, so Herc stayed there as much as he could, did his best to keep Chuck entertained, keep his spirits up. He thought it was working most of the time, but now and again he'd look over and Chuck would look away and the hurt on his features had nothing to do with the burns any more.

+

Herc wakes from dozing, straightens out his arm and winces at the pins and needles but reaches for Chuck anyway, and it's strange how the appearance of his wounds has only worsened with the passing of time. Bruises have risen to the surface, dark and ugly, and although they're fading, they're still worse to look at somehow than the original contusions, their colours turning sickly yellows and greens, like rot. The grafts seem to be taking well enough though, judging by the noises the surgeon makes whenever he comes by to check on them. 

_We'll give them five more days. Then he should be well enough to go home._

Herc wonders, several times a day, where exactly _home_ is. He's not sure that it's the Shatterdome any more. The Jaeger program is done - how can it possibly continue with no further threat of Kaiju attacks, and no remaining operational Jaegers? The PPDC are likely weeks away from shutting Hong Kong down, and while they'll all be given time to relocate, Herc sees no reason to hang around. 

Chuck doesn't talk about it. He doesn't mention Striker, or the breach, or Stacker. He asks if Max is okay, if Mako's feeding him enough, and how long it'll be before he gets out of the hospital.

When the psychiatrist comes to speak with Chuck, Herc leaves the room and wanders the hallways, winds up in the same seat he sat in the first night. He doesn't know what Chuck tells her; he's pretty sure he's better off not knowing when he goes back and Chuck looks paler than before, haunted.

They talk about nothing afterwards because Chuck's too busy most of the time grinding his teeth against the pain of recovery, and Herc doesn't know what's safe to say.

 

 

 

**TWO: SHUTDOWN**

 

It's another week before Chuck is released from the hospital. Herc carries a bag filled with the get well gifts he was sent - everything from porn rags to stuffed toy bulldogs, while Chuck moves awkwardly on his crutches beside him. Any press presence is being kept to a distance, and once they're in the cab, Herc forgets about everything but Chuck.

"I don't want anyone fussing," Chuck tells him, and he nods.

"Don't worry, I told them all straight. No parties." Herc half expects Chuck to argue with that, so it's telling when all he gets is a nod.

"I just want to go to bed."

"I know. It's okay, son, they'll understand."

"Will they?" Chuck sighs, turning to look out of the window. Herc watches him carefully for a few minutes, wishing there was something more that he could say, something that could make any of this better. But he can't, _won't_ tell Chuck to just pull himself together, because he knows it's never going to be that easy. He's been listening over the past couple of weeks, and he's certain of two things. One, that Chuck is just as surprised as everyone else that he made it out alive, and two, he's finding it difficult to forgive either himself or Stacker for it.

He knows as well that everything Chuck said before the op, about his intent to come back, was all posturing. Deep down he'd known the mission for what it was, and somehow that makes his survival so much harder to deal with.

Herc also knows that Chuck had lied about how much pain he was in, taking only what the doctors insisted on giving him and nothing more. He'd caught it several times in the hospital, the way Chuck's mouth had tightened into a thin line, how he'd trembled and sweated and sworn into the night.

He’d kept quiet though. Sometimes, he knew, you needed the pain, needed to work through it and acknowledge it. Like a penetance paid in tears and cut off screams. In the morning he’d be there when Chuck woke after falling into exhausted sleep.

The Shatterdome is quiet when they get there, and Herc's glad of that. He'd been deliberately obtuse when asked what time he'd be bringing Chuck back, and though there are a few people who notice them and come across to say hello and wish Chuck a good recovery, it's not as bad as it could have been.

Even so, when they make it to his room Chuck's on the verge of a panic attack, shaking and close to tears. Herc thanks whatever God there is for Max being there, short tail wagging and stubby legs a blur as he races towards Chuck, his face colliding wetly with Chuck's ankle, and it's the only welcome home that matters to Chuck, Herc's sure of it.

"Hey, buddy. Told you I'd be back, eh?" It's strained, but Max has given Chuck a point to focus on, and he needs that.

"Here, sit down and you can say hi properly," Herc offers, and Chuck shrugs him off. 

"I can do it."

"I know, son, but..." Herc gives in, watching Chuck settle himself slowly into the seat. "Okay. Need anything?"

"No." 

"I'll go then, if-"

"No, don't."

Herc sits on the edge of the bed opposite, and picks at the blanket beneath him, not sure what to say.

"This place'll shut down soon, I guess. We're no longer needed, are we? I can't pilot again anyway, Striker's gone, there's nothing left to fight."

Herc looks up, sees Chuck swallow, idly petting Max and resolutely not looking at him. It's the first time he's heard Chuck even mention Striker. "I've lost most of my family, haven't I? Even the crews here'll be packing up and leaving as soon as they can. We're all that's left, aren't we?"

"Chuck, I-"

"Dad. I can't stay here. I don't _want_ to stay here. We can go, can't we?" He’s still not looking at Herc but one hand is clenching the bedsheet, white knuckled, and he knows his son is trying not to beg.

"Of course." He's Marshall, but it's a mantle he can pass along to someone else, isn't it? Doing his duty is what got them both here, and he's starting to feel tired of it now. He's feeling like Chuck _needs_ him for the first time in years, so how can he say no? Besides, he's right. The Shatterdome will be shutting down around their ears soon enough; the Jaeger program can't exist without any Jaegers, without any Kaiju, and now that there's no real need for it, the powers that be will close it down for good. So what else can they do but leave? "Give me some time to get things in order here, and we can leave. Wherever you want."

"I don't care where." Chuck's still not looking at him, and he doesn't understand the reticence, but can't bring himself to question it either. "I just... I want to be with you."

 _I know them all._ Chuck had said that to him, hadn't he? He'd said everything they'd always been too afraid to talk about, right there in that hallway, and Herc had still sent him on his way. "You will be. Get some rest, son."

+

It's late, when Herc finally leaves Chuck's room. His son is sleeping, laid awkardly on his side with Max up on the bed beside him because Herc had put him there. It felt right.

LOCCENT is almost in darkness, save for a couple of displays still glowing, and Herc soon locates Tendo, sitting at the back of the room with a cup of something filthy-looking and a battered paperback.

"You wanted to see me?" 

Folding down an already dog-eared page, Tendo nods, looking grave. "I wasn't sure if you'd want this, honestly. But it might help?"

"What, Tendo?"

"Every connpod has this... remote recording device built in. It's like a black box, a flight recorder that sends every bit of data back to LOCCENT, regardless of the comms being active."

Herc's stomach feels like it's dropping. He nods, while Tendo pulls something up on the display to his left. 

"It's audio only, but... Herc, you don't have to listen if you don't want to."

"Play it.” He’s right, he doesn’t want to hear it, what may have been his son’s last words. Nausea rolls in his gut but he’ll swallow it down, keep going because he knows it might help him help Chuck.

+

Herc barely sleeps, and when he crosses the hall to Chuck's room, his son answers looking about the same as Herc feels. 

"Coming to breakfast?" Herc asks, bending to scratch Max's ears.

"Yeah, I don't think so. I've got stuff here. You, uh... You could eat here if you want." Chuck rubs his eyes, standing aside to let Herc in. "Where'd you go last night?"

"Had to see Tendo. You were sleeping, I didn't want to wake you." Though Herc's pretty sure Chuck didn't remain asleep for very long, judging by the dark circles under his eyes. "How's your back doing?"

"Itchy. Tight. Pulls whenever I breathe. What did Tendo want?"

"Just to talk. Asked after you, you know? Most people do."

Chuck looks away, swallowing. "Yeah. Cereals?"

"Do you want me to get-"

"I can do it myself, dad. I'm not a fucking cripple."

Herc might be more shocked if there had been any vehemence behind the words, but they're said quietly, plainly. All he can do is nod, and take a seat by the desk to watch Chuck. He'd listened to the recording that Tendo gave him more times than he probably should have, and all he can hear in his head are the words between Stacker and his son.

_I can't do this to your father._

_We're not leaving him to die when these things start pouring out of the breach, either. I'm not fucking running away, not now. We need to do this._

_No, you need to get in that evac pod, get back to your dad and have a life, it can't end like this. I can finish this. I don't need you here to blow this thing, I can do it._

The pain in Stacker's voice had been palpable, and Herc had found himself wishing he'd known the man better, not just the pilot or the Marshall. Bottom line, as far as Herc can tell, is that Chuck's here because Stacker knew Herc wouldn't survive without him, or just wouldn't survive losing him.

"Here." Chuck puts a bowl down on the desk for him, but takes his own to the seat by the small window. "Sorry they're dry. Milk was funky."

Herc turns the chair enough that he can see his son. "Doesn't matter. Thanks. Anything you want to do today?"

"Like what? There's nothing to do here, is there? Anyway, don't you have stuff to see to?"

Herc shrugs, wondering if he'll ever even get Chuck out of this room. "Probably. But it can wait, if you want to-"

"I'll be alright, dad. Stop worrying about me."

Herc skims his spoon over the top of the cereal, and frowns. "Wish I knew how to," he mutters quietly. "Did you sleep? Because you look like hell."

Chuck glares at him. "You try getting tossed around like fucking scrambled eggs and see how you look." 

"I didn't mean that and you know it." _You wanted me here, stop trying to push me back out the door._

"Do I? Because sometimes what you say and what you mean... I don't know, dad."

Herc watches Chuck stir his dry cereal and thinks about how this was always easier in the drift. 

_If you don't get in that evac pod right now, this bomb isn't going anywhere. We die, everyone dies. Get the hell out of here, Ranger. Go home._

Herc closes his eyes, and he's not even sure what he'd do if he could see Stacker right now. Punch him, or thank him? "We can rent somewhere in the city for now, get out of here if that's what you want. Take Max and go, if you don't want to be here. I can commute."

"Just like that?"

"If it's what you want to do, son."

Chuck seems to deflate, reaching for Max who's never too far away from him any more. "Thank you." And he sounds a little choked up, but Herc doesn't say anything about it, not like he might have done before.

+

Mako looks at him like he's betrayed her somehow, and he wants to at least try to explain but at the same time - why should he? Chuck's still in a fierce amount of pain even though the wounds have pretty much healed, and he's doing the best he can. It'll take him a few weeks to hand the Shatterdome over, but after that? He and Chuck won't be long before they leave Hong Kong altogether, he's certain of it.

Raleigh pulls him into an embrace that's warm and comforting and it makes him feel better, like he's doing the right thing.

Chuck barely leaves his room for the few days it takes Herc to find a place. He eats the meals Herc brings him, or at least he eats enough to keep his dad satisfied, and he sleeps for a few hours a night with Max tucked in close to his side. 

Herc thinks he hears him crying sometimes, but he doesn't bring it up with Chuck. The woman who came to him in the hospital pays a few visits - sometimes Chuck just tells her to leave him the hell alone, other times she stays for a couple of hours and Herc wonders what they talk about but it isn't his place to ask. She only looks at Herc with something like curiosity and says that Chuck's doing okay, but suggests that Herc ask him if he'll write things down, or maybe even encourage him to take up a new hobby. Which Herc isn't exactly sure will help anything, but he tries. He's doing his best.

 

 

**THREE: DON'T FREAK OUT**

 

The apartment is small, because it's what they're used to. It's on the far edge of the city, there are few other tenants and it's quiet. Herc thinks it's ideal. He has no idea what Chuck thinks of it, but he seems at least a bit more at peace here than he was at the Shatterdome.

There's a storm going on outside, and they're on opposite ends of the couch, eating takeout and watching anything except for the news, because the only news at the moment seems to be about the state of the economy, speculation about the Shatterdome's future, or that Chuck Hansen hasn't been seen or heard of since his rescue after Operation Pitfall. Herc's lost count of the number of people he had to pay off to keep it that way. Even so, sometimes the speculation is even worse, so they avoid the news the best they can.

Herc turns the tv off when the picture starts to flicker, the lightning outside flashing bright every few minutes. Max is snoring through the storm, but Chuck's jumpy and in the end, Herc shuffles along the couch and drapes his arm around Chuck's shoulders. "I'm here," he murmurs, and Chuck snorts like he can't believe Herc's treating him like a fucking kid, but he doesn't move away. Chuck falls asleep curled into his chest, and Herc's almost holding his breath for what feels like hours, waiting to catch him when he wakes, waiting to chase away whatever demons aren't letting go of his son.

But there are no nightmares that night, and Chuck sleeps on.

+

It's dark when Herc wakes up next, and the room is cool, soft with the muted sounds of a city just starting to come to life. He pulls himself off the couch and out onto the small balcony, where Chuck is standing with his head bowed, leaning against the rail. 

"What are you doing out here, son?" Herc shivers, standing close without touching, and watches Chuck's hands.

"Relax, I'm not going to throw myself off. Just wanted some air, that's all."

"Better after a storm, huh?"

"Washes away the stench. Didn't mean to wake you."

Herc shrugs, though Chuck isn't looking at him. "It's okay. How's-"

"Christ, dad. My back's fine. Ugly as fuck, but it's still there, so can we please stop asking how it is every five minutes?"

Herc swallows, looking out across the city - or what's left of it these days. "Can't help being concerned, son. I just want to help."

Chuck doesn't answer, and when Herc chances a quick look at him, he sees light catching in the tears on Chuck's cheeks. He doesn't know whether to say anything about them or not, and in the end he doesn't get the chance before Chuck makes an impatient sound and pushes off the railing to go back inside.

Herc wonders if maybe he needs help as much as Chuck does.

+

It had taken Herc almost two hours to convince Chuck to leave the apartment with him - only to go as far as the supermarket a couple of blocks away - and he'd had to take deep breaths not to lose his patience. He'd been told he'd need plenty of it, and christ were they right.  
They're halfway down the fresh produce aisle when Chuck takes hold of Herc's arm in a tight grip. "They're looking at me, dad. Like I don't belong here. Can we go?"

"Nobody's looking at you. Listen Chuck, we're almost done so can you just hold out for a few more minutes?"

"I need to get out of here. I _need_ to get some air." It's the urgency that makes Herc relent instead of insisting that they finish this. _Patience,_ he reminds himself.

"Okay. Okay, come on." Shopping abandoned, Herc takes Chuck outside, gently reminding him to breathe, that it's okay, he's right there and won't let go.

"I'm sorry, dad." Chuck leans on him when they get outside, and Herc doesn't quite know what to do with his arms, ends up just looping them around Chuck's shoulders, careful about where because he's still wary of touching the new skin.

"Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have made you come." He'd just thought it would do Chuck good to be out of the apartment. "We'll go home. I can come back and do this later. You can watch a movie with Max or whatever, okay?"

"I'm not _twelve_ , dad," Chuck mutters, pulling away to start walking home. Herc watches him for a second, then takes a few long strides to catch up.

"I know. I'm sorry, I- I'm trying, Chuck."

"I don't want you to have to _try!_ I want..." Chuck stops suddenly and lowers his voice, looking around at the people passing them by. "I want things to be how they were. Not... Not _exactly_ , but-"

"I miss it too." _The drift._ Where this was always easier, where communicating was second nature and they didn't have to rely on awkward conversations and stupid mistakes to know what was going through each others' heads.

"I asked Tendo about what he gave you, you know. Didn't want to tell me anything at first, but I got it out of him. The recording. He told me you took it." 

Herc looks up, brow furrowing when he sees the look in Chuck's eyes.

"I want to hear it."

"I don't think that's-"

"I don't care, I want to hear it. I've been trying to remember how it happened and it's lost to me and I can't... Can't keep living in the dark."

"What if it makes things worse? The doc said-"

"Fuck her! Fuck what she said." Chuck's eyes are bright, and Herc wants to just pull him in close again and not let go for however long it takes for him to feel truly safe. "I know what I need. I need to know I wasn't-" He gulps, swallows, notices again that they're still standing in the middle of the street, and puts his hand on Herc's chest as if to anchor himself somehow. "Let me listen to it."

"You weren't a coward, don't even think it," Herc tells him, everything about his stance shifting, becoming fierce, challenging anyone and everyone who even dares to look their way. Grabbing Chuck’s arm, he pulls them to a secluded corner, they are _not_ doing this where every eye can see. He lowers his voice, leaning towards Chuck. "Stacker made you get in that evac pod. He wasn't going to detonate the bomb until you were out, do you understand? He needed to, he needed to know he at least saved one thing if he couldn’t close the breach himself."

"How could saving me be as important as saving the entire Pacific Rim? The world?"

"He had nothing to lose," Herc says, quiet. "You did." _I did._

"He had _Mako._ "

"And he spared her from having to watch him die a slow death... Chuck, he gave you another chance." 

Chuck snorts, taking his hand off Herc's chest to swipe at his eyes. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"What, you think I do? You think anyone does any more? We've spent the last ten years fighting overgrown lizards using giant bloody robots! Does that sound normal to you? You and me, we'll figure this out. However long it takes."

Nodding, apparently placated, Chuck meets Herc's gaze just for a moment. "I still need to listen to that recording."

Herc breathes out. "Okay."

+

Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, Herc isn't sure. But Chuck had asked for it, and Herc couldn't say no to him, just couldn't. He'd taken it away to listen to it, and he'd come back into the kitchen where Herc was fixing them some dinner almost two hours later.

"I've been trying to figure out why I wanted that for myself," he says, without preamble. Herc moves the pot off the stove and turns to give Chuck his full attention. "Being a hero, putting humanity before me. What am I, anyway?" Chuck isn't looking at him, he's scratching at the edge of the worktop with his thumb. "You say I wasn't a coward, but it was easy enough in the end to climb into that pod."

"Because he gave you an ultimatum." 

"I knew he'd still blow the bomb, even if I refused to go. C'mon, dad, don't try and tell me otherwise. This is _Stacker_ we're talking about."

Herc nods, because he doesn't have an answer for that, not really. The boy's right, of course. Stacker just knew the push Chuck needed to get out, and gave it to him. 

"So maybe I'm not a coward. Maybe I'm just... maybe all I want is to be the kid who gets to have a world without Kaiju in it. Maybe I want to watch a rugby game or the next hit movie, or have a night out drinking with my dad. Just... Normal stuff. That people do, not Jaeger pilots. Didn't think I'd ever get tired of saving the world, but when you're staring at Hell, I guess you start wondering if there's a different path."

"Stacker showed you the path."

"Should I have taken it?"

Herc crosses the small space to pull Chuck in against him, still careful of his back but it's a tighter, more heartfelt embrace than he's given his son in a very long time. "I'm glad you did. I don't give a shit if that's selfish, I want you here with me."

Herc has little time to register Chuck saying "don't freak out", before there are lips pressed to his, warm and soft for a split second before they're gone because, _shit shit shit_ , and Herc looks at his hands on Chuck's chest, hears a broken sound and he pulls his hands away, steps back. "What was that?"

Chuck just stares at him, pale and still. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." _It's not okay._ "Forget about it." _I don't think I can._

Chuck nods, and pushes away from the counter. "I'm tired, I'm just gonna go to bed."

"Alright." What else can Herc say to that? He turns back to the food he was preparing, his appetite lost completely. It occurs to him then that Chuck's never really _had_ anyone to kiss before. No time for girls - or boys, evidently - and that any spare time either of them _did_ have was mostly spent in each other's company. The rest, in each other's heads. So maybe this was inevitable.

And maybe it was his own fault. He'd been so relieved to have Chuck back, he's been keeping him close and touching him - mostly to keep reassuring himself that Chuck is really, truly here and solid - and maybe that's why the kiss happened. And he'd pushed Chuck away. 

Which, he realises, is probably the _worst_ thing he could have done, however wrong the kiss had been. _Didn't feel too wrong though, did it?_

He's still standing at the worktop some time later when he hears Chuck's bedroom door opening again, and when he turns around to look, his heart stutters. 

"I can't do this," Chuck says, so quietly that Herc almost doesn't catch it. "Not without you. You know that, right?"

"I'm not going anywhere, I thought I'd-"

"You loved mum _so_ much. But you came for me, and don't give me that bull about me being easier to find, just _tell_ me. Just once, tell me you miss her, because I've never heard you say it, not to me."

"I tried not to do that, Chuck. You were just a boy, and you didn't need that guilt. Anger was easier, wasn't it?"

"I'm not angry any more. God, dad, I haven't been angry about that for a long time." 

Herc looks at him, seeing the truth of that statement. The fire that had always been there seems to have burnt away to embers. "Of course I miss her. Every day. But I don't regret my choice, not for a second."

Chuck nods, closing his eyes. "Me too. I miss how you were when she was still around. It wasn't all bad, was it? I remember that." 

Herc waits, hears Chuck take a few shaky breaths, and almost reaches for him but doesn't dare.

"You wanted to know what that was."

"We don't have to-"

"I do. We've been drifting together for years, and now that it's gone, my head feels empty. _I_ feel empty. This is what you and that doctor wanted, isn't it? Me, telling you how I feel? Well, I feel empty, and I need to connect with someone – no, fuck! - I need to connect with _you_. I know what I saw in the drift, I know what I felt.” He looks up now, eyes open and beseeching. “Tell me I'm the most important thing in your life."

"You are," Herc says, and maybe he gets it, maybe he understands now, maybe he needs Chuck almost as much as he loves him. "Always have been."

"I'll never know anyone the same, never be known like I am by you." It's fierce the way Chuck says it, and Herc gets it.

 _You're my son, the colour of the sky after a storm, a pulse of red, heartbeats and flares, fire in the water, paper planes and a beat up cricket bat, frangipani flowers and tenacity like nobody else I know. And I know everything about you, except for this, I've_ been _everything for you, except for this._

"I wasn't prepared," Herc says, and it's the truth. He might have wanted it for a long time, since the first drift with Chuck even, but he'd never realised it until now, never imagined it was the same for Chuck.

"You're prepared now," Chuck points out, and Herc nods, still watching his son. "You think I'm just trying to replace the drift with this, don't you?"

"The thought crossed my mind. But it's more than that, isn't it?"

Chuck nods, moving further into the kitchen to back Herc against the counter. "Stacker sent me back for you. Guess I was just as much of an open book as you were."

 _We've seen each other at our worst and at our best, we've seen ourselves after a fight, we've seen ourselves sleeping and waking and dirty and beautiful and ugly, we've felt like gods and we've felt hate and regret and lust and ache and trust and synthesis but never, **never** , have we felt nothing at all._ Herc wants to move his hands from where they’re gripping the counter behind him so tight it aches, but he can't move, can't look away from Chuck's face, can't stop the inevitable from happening because it's always been inevitable, hasn't it? A wave, building behind the dam that Striker built, and now there's nothing left to stop it from breaking over them both.

_We're free from it all now. We can have what we want, and we can have it on our terms. But you've got to be certain, you have to know._

"The rest of the world falls in love without the drift," Herc says, one last attempt at resolve. "You could, you might-"

"I don't _want_ the rest of the world, I've given them enough already and what have I ever had from them? Dad, I want _you_. Just you. Don't push me away again."

Herc doesn't.

+

Herc wakes with sunlight in his eyes and Chuck's warm weight over him. He thinks it's the longest either of them have slept in a long time, and it contents him against the rising panic that threatens to overwhelm him.

He considers the t-shirt Chuck's wearing for some time, before reaching to carefully lift it and slip his hand underneath. It feels strange, a little scar tissue here and there, areas that were less severely burnt, then the smoothness of new skin. He pulls his hand back again, not sure if he should be touching it, because he doesn't want to do anything to hurt his son.

 _We can't stay here._ He knows that with increasing certainty, and it's why Chuck wanted out of the Shatterdome. He can't continue a relationship in a city where everyone knows who they are. _Rules out most places._ He'll find somewhere, he thinks. A place where they can be together and nobody will give a shit and Chuck can kiss him in the middle of the street and they can show up to a neighbour's barbecue together and nobody will bat an eyelid.

"Told you it was ugly," Chuck mumbles, shifting against him. 

"It's part of you. You’re alive, anything that shows that can never not be beautiful," he tells his son seriously. “You okay?"

"I'm good.” He can feel the twitch of a smile from where Chuck’s pressed against his chest. “So that really happened last night."

Herc strokes Chuck's hair, catching a handful and bringing him up for another kiss, a continuation from where they left off when the making out got sleepy, and it's an answer to a question Chuck didn't ask.

_Yes, it was what I wanted._

Herc feels Chuck's fingers at his nape, and smiles into his mouth. "I don't know how this is supposed to work," he murmurs, lifting his head back to look his son in the eyes. "I want it to, I know that."

"You just have to be here," Chuck says, and it's probably the most honest they've ever been with one another outside of the drift, and Herc thinks _so this is how it works in the real world._ He'd forgotten. 

"I need to know what I can do to make things better for you. You've started to tell me, but-"

Chuck cuts him off with a kiss that starts out too hard, softens into something else and their hands wrapped together, resting on the sheets.

"I don't know," he says, quiet. "I don't know yet. I keep hearing Stacker, telling me to come back to you. He knew, dad, there was no way he couldn't know, and he still let me go." Chuck rubs his thumb over Herc's knuckles, no longer looking at him. "There's a part of me that can't forgive him for making me choose, but... Christ. It wasn't much of a choice. If we'd failed, I would've wanted to come back to you just the same. I mean, fuck, if I couldn't live without you, I sure as shit wasn't dying without you."

Herc squeezes his eyes closed, swallowing the thick feeling in his throat. 

"Jesus, dad, don't start _crying._ "

"Son, shut up. If you're going to be sentimental, I'm allowed this. So just, give me a sec."

"We're going to be okay, aren't we?"

Herc wipes his eyes with his free hand, and nods. "I think we'll be fine."

+

It's late, when Herc finally makes it back from the Shatterdome. He'd wanted Chuck to go with him, but in the end he'd gone alone. It had been strange, saying goodybe to the place, but it had to be done. Two more days in Hong Kong, then they'd be leaving. 

There's a light in the bedroom, and Max comes out to greet him, plods after him as he goes down the hallway, pushes open the door. Chuck's sitting on the bed with his shirt off, scrutinising his reflection in a mirror he's propped against the wall.

"Everything alright?" Herc asks, catching his eye. Chuck's been okay for the most part, though he still refuses to take off his shirt when they kiss, make out, grind on one another. No amount of Herc telling him that it doesn't matter to him, that the scars are what they are and that he's alive is the main thing, seems to help.

"Wanted to make some dinner for you. Celebrate," Chuck says, reaching for his shirt but not picking it up. "I thought I'd take the bus, but-" He pulls his knee up, turning around to look at Herc properly. "It just felt like it was burning. It's not, no big deal."

"You could've called me. I'd have come home." Herc knows the signs by now, doesn't matter if Chuck tells him in so many words or not, there are certain things they've learned will trigger a panic attack. They haven't put a label on it, at least not out loud, but Herc tries to stay aware of it. It's one of the reasons why the place they're moving to is way away from any cities. Close to the coast, not much besides wide open space around them, stretches of sand and dry grasses and Chuck had even been enthusiastic about the pictures. Big windows, very few doors, neighbours far enough away to not be obtrusive.

"I'm okay, dad."

Herc moves to sit behind Chuck, puts a gentle hand on the too-smooth grafted skin, runs his fingers along the scarred edges, traces the scars of burns that were less serious. Chuck shivers, and Herc thinks he hears _don't_ , but he doesn't listen. He leans, presses his mouth to the places his fingers touched, kisses freckles and paler flesh, kisses the short hairs at the back of Chuck's neck, and presses closer, his hand curving around to wander over Chuck's chest.

"It's just us now. No PPDC, no Shatterdome, nobody looking at either one of us. Except for Max, and he doesn't care. Do you, boy?"

"Dad," Chuck mutters, though Herc can see in the mirror that he's almost smiling. His stomach grumbles, and Chuck's smile dissolves into laughter and _christ_ , that's a good sound.

"I'll order some food in," he says, grinning and kissing behind Chuck's ear. "Gotta shower first."

"How was it?" Chuck asks, catching him before he can get off the bed. "Everyone?"

"It was okay. They missed you, but I think they understand. They can always visit when we're settled." Chuck nods, and Herc stops him before he can apologise again, for anything. "Decide what you want to eat, I'll be back in a few."

 

 

**FOUR: PROGNOSIS**

It takes them a week to get their new home to a more hospitable state. They didn't bring much with them, so most of Herc's time is taken up with getting furniture, food, simple things that neither of them exactly thought about. Herc goes on his own most of the time, but he manages to persuade Chuck to accompany him once. They come home from that trip with an easel and three blank canvasses, and Herc goes out the next day and brings back some paints for him.

"I'll be crap at it."

"Worse if you don't paint anything at all," Herc says, handing over the bag. "Go on, set up where you want."

He busies himself with putting up a couple of shelves in the bedroom, then moves into the garden. Chuck's at the far end, still staring at a blank canvas, but glances back and smiles when he hears Herc.

"Take your time, son," Herc calls, and watches Max go waddling up the garden towards Chuck. He sits on the grass, adding lawn furniture to his long mental list of things still to do, and breathes out. They're here. There's a pang when he realizes it, when he thinks _we're together_ , but it's lost its sharp edges these days and he's daring to be happy. Chuck seems to be doing well, and Herc's certain that the more time he spends out here, the easier it'll get for him to go other places, to deal with people again. To claim back that much more of who and what he was before all of this. And if it's a longer road than that, at least they're on it together.

The next thing he knows is a weight settling over him, Chuck's lips pressed to his and he can't help but respond, curving his hands to fit his boy's hips, opening his eyes for a moment before they fall closed again at Chuck's tongue in his mouth.

It's a slow, languid kiss and Herc pulls Chuck into him, hands wandering over that perfect ass, dick straining against his fly. 

"Do you want to..?" Chuck asks, looking down at him through a haze. Herc isn't sure for a second what he's asking, because he's never asked before. They've just rubbed off against one another, kissing and petting and it's been _good_. It's been enough.

"What?" Herc says, chasing Chuck's mouth for another snatched, hungry kiss.

"I want this," Chuck whispers, pressing hard against Herc's dick. "Or these," he adds, reaching for Herc's hand, his fingers. "Both. God, I don't care, just _please._ This is us now, right? You keep telling me the state of me doesn't change anything, but anybody else would've fucked by now."

"I only have one son," Herc says, immediately regretting the words. He holds Chuck tight to stop him from pulling away, and smiles. "One infuriating, contrary, _beautiful_ son. I don't want to screw it up."

"You won't."

"I could, Chuck. I'm not perfect, you know? And I've not exactly had much experience in this."

"Me either," Chuck points out, "but we've come this far."

"You really want this."

Chuck nods. "Only live once, dad."

Herc almost grimaces at the choice of words, but Chuck's already getting up and doesn't notice, just holds out his hand. They go inside, and Herc feels like a goddamn swarm of butterflies just erupted inside him. 

"Wish I had a manual for this," he mutters, following Chuck into the bedroom.

"I'm not a bloody Jaeger," Chuck says, though he's smiling when he turns around. "We both know how this works already, don't we? C'mon. Just... whatever feels good."

 _Everything, with you._ Herc nods, pulling off his shirt and tossing it. Chuck does the same, but slower. Bites his lip, and it's evident that he's fighting not to smile now at how bloody awkward Herc's being about something they've kind of almost done a dozen or more times with their clothes on.

"Still hard, dad?" Chuck asks, coming closer to palm Herc's dick through his jeans. Herc grabs his wrist, and Chuck's smile fades a little, but comes back when he realizes Herc isn't pushing him off.

 _What kind of fucked up am I to get so turned on by this?_ Herc closes his eyes, slow to let go of Chuck, reaches around to push his hands inside Chuck's pants and feel the soft, gorgeous swell of his buttocks. "Take 'em off," he groans, hoarse with want.

"Yours or mine?"

"Both, I don't care. Chuck, come on. Give me a break here."

Somehow, they wind up naked together, Chuck lying on the bed with Herc on all fours over him, bent to kiss him. Herc almost can't deal with the way that Chuck's looking at him, like he's some kind of saviour, or that he's the best thing in the goddamned world, but he doesn't look away. He puts his hand under Chuck's left thigh and tries to distract him, but Chuck just pulls him closer and groans when their dicks slide together.

"Still okay?"

Chuck makes an exasperated noise like he can't even believe Herc's asking, and nips his jaw. "I'm _fine._ "

"Okay." 

+

It's not exactly perfection. Herc has to get up midway through to fetch lube and a condom because he wasn't prepared enough, and Chuck's back starts to irritate him after a while so there's a changing of position until they get it right, but eventually they make it to where they want to be. Chuck holds completely still for a long moment when Herc's finally settled, his dick surrounded by tight, slick warmth and Chuck breathing soft and shallow into his ear, hunched over him, hands on his chest.

It's not perfection, but it doesn't matter because it feels good and Chuck doesn't stop touching him or kissing him the whole damn time, and threads their fingers together when Herc takes hold of Chuck's cock and tries to stroke in time with his thrusts. It doesn't matter that it seems to take no time at all before Chuck's coming, and the way he tightens up makes Herc wince, makes him touch the points of his fingers to Chuck's back in silent plea for him to relax again. Just a little.

Herc comes not long after, when Chuck presses his fists into the pillow above Herc's shoulders and _rides_ him in a way that's almost too much for both of them to bear. 

Not what Herc imagined it would be, but Chuck collapses on top of him, sweaty and satisfied and just grunting softly when Herc shifts, uncomfortable. He says nothing for a long while, enjoying the silence and the imperfections of it all. 

"Didn't know it'd be so messy," Chuck rumbles, eventually tipping off Herc and onto his side. "Want me to-" He doesn't finish asking, pulls the condom from Herc's dick and rolls up off the bed to discard it. He comes back and stops at the foot of the bed, surveying the damage. "Should change the sheets," he says, and Herc just groans and stretches his legs. Muscles he hasn't had to use in a while are protesting, and clearly that just means that he should be having more sex, exercising them more. He could stand some practice, he supposes. They both could.

"Want me to move?"

"Just as far as the fresh linen," Chuck says, pulling at the edge of the bedsheet. 

+

 

"It was good," Herc tells him, while they're washing the dinner dishes. "It'll be better next time, too."

Chuck puts another plate away, and makes a sound of assent. "I know. Dad, I'm not disappointed, not at all. Are you? In me?"

Herc doesn't dry his hands, takes them out of the water and reaches to thread wet fingers into Chuck's hair. " _No._ Christ, no, never have been. I've always..."

Chuck smiles, moving his hands to Herc's hips. "Say it."

"Don't be an arsehole."

" _Say_ it," Chuck insists.

"I've always loved you. Okay?"

"That's what I came home for. Words we never said out loud."

"Plenty of those," Herc says, stroking through Chuck's hair to his nape. 

"And no excuse not to say them any more."

"Part of me thinks I should never have let Stacker take you from me to start with. But-"

"It had to be that way," Chuck says. "Dad, I'm going to be okay. We've got this place, we've got Max and I've got you; the prognosis is looking better."

 

 

 

**ART BY ASREAL01**

 


End file.
